IMPERFECTIONS
by theabbycadabra
Summary: We all have scars. Marks that make us who we are. But the amount of scars on her hands classify her as something that isn't quite human.


**A/N -** Finally! Finally I've managed to update a story that I've kept in my Document Manager for about three weeks!

Anyways, I've always been interested in the SG Fandom and so I decided to check it out, only to have my self-confidence ravaged. All of the story plots, literature, descriptions - just the _reason_ I love the language of English.

One of my goals is to write as amazing as the authors do.

So anyways, I decided to write this story based on a very angst and heart-breaking plot because I enjoy writing the type of literature that echoes of misery...no, I am not "considered" emo at my school but I'm emo at heart.

I mean, everyone has their different pretenses of emo and scene and bitchy, but I think these words are demeaning and classify our own nature as what society sees them as. Oops, didn't mean to rant but we are born as who we are and words can not label us because of how God has designed us!

ANYWAYS.

Happy reading!

* * *

Maybe she should've expected this.

She's dating a wander-lusting fairy who's been traveling for four years, non-stop.

But when she comes downstairs at 6:00 AM after waking up, she doesn't expect him to be standing by the door with her uncle, holding a suitcase.

Sabrina stops in mid-step, staring at them. "Puck? Uncle Jake? Where are you guys going?"

Puck stares up at her and shoots her a hesitant grin. "Uh, Grimm, we're about to go to Peru. Your uncle's heard of an amulet around there." Uncle Jake looks to the side guiltily, understanding the situation immediately.

"W-why didn't you tell me?" Sabrina demands, going down the stairs to face him properly. "I didn't even know you were still traveling."

Puck rubs the back of his neck. "Of course I'm still traveling." He reads the look on Sabrina's face and touches her shoulder briefly. "Listen, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I really didn't know what to expect. I'll tell you next time, alright?"

Sabrina bites her lip. "Puck, you came home just about two weeks ago. Are you seriously going so soon?"

"I'm sorry," he says again, and pulls her close to him. "We'll be back in about a week. Don't miss me to much, okay?"

Sabrina wipes the disappointment off of her face. "I-I didn't really...okay. I'll see you soon."

"Thanks Grimm," Puck says, flashing her another smile. "I'll see you in a bit, okay?" He kisses her cheek quickly and walks out of the door.

She faces her uncle, who gives her a guilty look. "Listen, 'Brina...I thought he already told you. Guess not."

"If he looks up to you so much to go when you tell him to go, maybe you should tell him the basis of being in a relationship," Sabrina says coldly. "Have fun on your trip, Uncle Jake."

Shock and slight irritation crosses his face. "Sabrina, you know I'm not making him come with me."

"Yeah, I know."

She goes upstairs and slams her door shut.

* * *

 _Go open the door_.

Sabrina stares at the text she's received from Puck and her eyes widen. She's too excited to reply to him as she flies down the stairs.

She hears voices outside of the door. It had been just four days since he had gone but was he possibly—?

Sabrina opens the door with vigorous force and the grin on her face slides off and she stares at the man in the blue uniform.

"Aye! Uh, sir, she just opened the door," the mailman whispers into the phone he's holding to his ear. "...she doesn't look too happy about this." There's a brown wrapped package in his hand.

Sabrina seethes, eyes narrowing as she snatches the phone from the mailman. "Puck, are you being serious right now? I thought you came home and I opened the door to a _mailman_? What kind of sick joke is this supposed to be?"

The line on the end is silent.

"Asshole," Sabrina hisses and she hangs up, shoving the phone into the mailman's hand. She rolls her eyes, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Ms.? I have a delivery from Mr. Goodfellow," the mailman says hurriedly, shoving the package into Sabrina's hands.

"Thank you," Sabrina says, but the mailman runs off before she can give him an apology.

She sighs and opens the brown package. There's a necklace inside, a thick circle, attached to a thin black cord. Under the tissue paper, there's a picture. She swallows, pulling it free and she stares at it.

It's a picture of Puck standing next to a cathedral with an annoyed look on his face. In black ink, _Cusco Cathredal_ is scrawled on the edge.

A laugh chokes out of her mouth and tears begin to stain the picture.

* * *

It's when he's gone that she realizes how much he's meant to her.

And she doesn't think she can stand it any longer.

* * *

"Sabrina."

He's holding out his arms and she's standing shell-shocked at the door, before she races into his arms.

There are tears in her eyes and they spill down her face.

"Puck," she whispers, pressing her lips against his ears and he holds her tighter than before.

"I missed you," he murmurs, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. His lips feel like coals against her skin.

"I did too," Sabrina murmurs and he squeezes her one more time before setting her down. "Don't leave me again." She stares up at him with glistening eyes. He doesn't respond, just presses his lips against both of her cheeks and winds her long blonde hair in his fingers.

She cries harder.

* * *

So every night she falls asleep in fear of waking up to him leaving. She doesn't think he'll leave a second time because she doesn't want to jinx it.

He tells her that he's leaving after coming back a week and a half.

North Pole, Alaska.

She doesn't tell him that it hurts her when he leaves so she just smiles and says, "Don't freeze your butt off there."

* * *

He returns and manages to patch up what's left of her pieces, but he's the one who breaks her again.

* * *

"Denmark," he whispers into her ear. "Five weeks."

Sabrina cringes, heart splintering in pain. She digs her nails into his wrists.

"So soon? For so long?" she says, trying to keep the pain out of her voice. He tries to hold her closer.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry baby," Puck replies.

"It's the third time, Puck," Sabrina whimpers. "You were gone for three weeks the second time and I barely made it. What do you expect from me now?"

"I don't even understand why you're holding on for so long," Puck whispers, brushing his fingers against her face. "But I love you. _Only_ _you_." She cries into the crook of his neck and he kisses the tears from her face and brushes his lips over her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

Sabrina breathes deeply inside his neck and tries to memorize his scent for the five weeks of hell.

* * *

"Your clothes are all in the suitcase. Toiletries in the second pocket," Sabrina says in a shaking voice. She will not break she will not break she will not break until he leaves. "Money in the pocket of your hoodie."

"I love you," Puck murmurs into her forehead. "I'm sorry."

"Hurry. Go."

Puck stares at her, kisses her lips, and holds her face in his hands.

" _Go_!" she shrieks, voice filled with breaking insanity, and she shoves him out of the house and slams the door shut.

She didn't want him to see her cry.

* * *

Puck leaves for the fourth, fifth, sixth, eight, ninth, tenth time after a long stretch of time. She tries hard not to show him how much it's hurting her and tries to take joy in the gifts he sends her from Nepal, Korea, and South America.

She's decked in foreign jewelry. Despite the foreign backgrounds of the jewels, they all have one thing in common - all soaked in her tears.

Everytime he tells her that he's leaving, she packs his stuff for him, does his laundry, makes sure that he's prepared in every single way - in general, being the mother he's never had.

 _This is how you love him_ , she reminds herself, _there's no other way since he's never around_.

Why does it hurt so much to love him? Is it even possible for her love to stretch on for so long?

But she's beginning to get fed up.

Eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth time, and now she's losing count on how many times he's left. It's been two years and now she's eighteen years old.

She's been being his mother for _two years_ now. She's been holding on for two years.

And she's absolutely _sick_ of it.

Please let that be a lie.

* * *

"Hey babe." He's going again. It's always the same when he goes.

She tenses, sitting upright on her bed.

"Where is it now?" Sabrina says, her voice cold like flint. "Egypt? Canada? Los Angeles?"

Puck's eyes widen. She's never been like this to him. "Mexico. Four weeks. Are you okay?"

"This is what, the forty-ninth time you're leaving?" Sabrina demands, her voice flat and hard.

Puck walks to her and kneels by her bed. He holds her cold hand and squeezes it once. "Sabrina, you know how much it hurts me to hurt you."

"I'm sick of this!" Sabrina shouts, pulling her hand from Puck. "I'm sick of everything!"

"Sabrina, honey, it'll be okay—"

"You have no idea how hard it is to wait for you," she snarls, shoving him away from her. "How long I've been waiting in my own personal _hell_. Puck, I want to be your girlfriend. Not your mother! Not your Wendy!"

"You're not my Wendy, I'm not Pe—" he says desperately.

"You're exactly like Peter Pan!" Sabrina screams. "Ignorant. Irresponsible. A _child_."

"I'm sorry," he says, voice trembling. "I'm sorry for being such a—"

"Don't you _dare_ say your sorry again. You do _nothing_ after saying sorry. You think I'm going to stand for this any longer?" Sabrina hisses, "I am not your mother. I am not your Wendy. I am not your _anything_."

Puck stumbles backwards. "You're breaking up with me."

"Get out of here and go," she hisses. "Don't expect me to be waiting for you again. I am _done_ with you."

Puck opens his mouth to plead with her but Sabrina cuts him off swiftly. "If you're looking for a Wendy, you're in the wrong fairytale."

* * *

How is it that the person who hurts you most is the one you want the most?

She swore that she'd stab her heart if she wants him again. He's hurt her way to much.

But she's willing to be his Wendy than be his nothing.

* * *

It's in the middle of the night and she goes to get a cup of water, about fourteen days after their breakup.

Darkness fills the room and she walks robotically to the kitchen table, already done memorizing where everything is. She guesses it's a routine that she's established; she won't see him or get hurt if she chooses this place and time. But then again, Puck's never out of his room nowadays.

It barely manages to numb the hatred and hurt spilling out of her body.

"You know, I've been too selfish with you," a voice says and she freezes, every nerve in her body riding the electric current that echoes inside of her. "Too selfish to let you go. Too selfish to let you know that I would let you go."

 _Move it, damn it! Move it or else he's going to end up breaking you again!_

"I guess you were right to call me a boy," he continues, voice cracking in pain, "A child. A selfish child. But I was afraid to let you go. I should've because it ended up worse than it should be."

"Stop it," she pleads and she whirls to him, stares at him in the darkness. She can't see him. "This is only going to hurt us both."

"But for some reason, I still needed to go. I needed an outlet of freedom. Being cooped up in the old lady's house makes me feel contained. Like I'm a slave," Puck says and hot tears are beginning to stream down her face. "I had to please myself and hurt you."

"Shut up!" she begs, shaking like she's made out of paper.

"I'm not going to say sorry," he whispers. "Because I'll be the baddest bitch if I do. Wait. I already am."

She can't speak because the tears are choking her throat.

"Come here Sabrina."

"I-I..." she breaks off and tries to breathe. "I-I can't see you."

The wind hisses loudly and a hand grabs her forearm and pulls her into the moonlight. Her heart is thumping, slowly, quickly coming to life. One of his hands secure her face. Both eyes locked on her face.

She gasps. More like a choke.

It's amazing how a person can transform in a matter of two weeks. His face is pale, eyes ringed with circles, hair messy, face gaunt with pain and torture.

"The demons..." she says in horror and suddenly it's an explosion in her chest that's telling her that she's the one who caused this she's the one who hurt him she's the one who's made him so miserable. She remembers what she's seen in the mirror. What she'd looked like when he's been gone. An exact replica."...they've gotten to you too."

Sabrina doesn't know exactly how she's stopped herself from crying but all she remembers is trying hard not to cause him more pain.

He's in her arms now. Silently shaking and sobbing into the crook of her neck. _Shattering_.

She self-combusts on her own and the atmosphere fills with pieces of him, pieces of her, pieces of them, finally together.

* * *

They through it. Together.

They heal together.

Every piece of him and every piece of her unite into one flesh, one body. It isn't because of the blur of glass in the air that no one can tell apart; they'll be stronger this way.

No individual self-combust button on them.

If they die, they die together.

It's harder for them to break that way.

* * *

One day a girl gave a boy her heart. He took it gladly, but he knew that this heart was made of glass. He vowed to never break it. But, every time he left, he dropped the heart, forgetting that it was made of glass. And she'd always kneel to the ground and pick up the pieces. No matter how many times she cut herself on it, she'd always give him the pieces and he'd always patch it up.

Then he would break it again, being too careless and reckless.

One day he comes home and sees her. He holds her hand and stares at the scars that he's caused her. There are enough to number the stars. So he vows to never break the heart again because he can't stand her getting hurt.

He kneels to the ground and begins to pick the pieces of her from the ground, earning some scars of his own.

Now he can gaze down at his hands and remember never to break things again.

Everyone has enough scars already.


End file.
